Mary + Her Mental Health

Just got back from seeing Wicked. On Halloween. Totally awesome. But I'm tired now and I have to go to bed. But before I do, I'd just like to leave you with a great quote from an L.A. Times columnist speaking to the slutty Halloween costume phenomenon that has reinvented Halloween for many girls and women all over this blessed nation. I swiped the quote off a really great blog I visit on occasion, and I recommend reading her post on this same topic. Here:

"I understand that the masquerade ball is a classic that faded away, and that people need an opportunity to hide behind a mask in order to safely express their hidden selves. It makes sense that once a year I get to peek into your psyche and find out whether you think of yourself as a whore nurse, a whore pirate, a whore angel or a whore whore."

Thank you. Just thank you. For reaching into my soul and giving it perfect verbiage.

You Failed Your Driver's Test

You only got 5/10 correct. If you have a driver's license, it needs to be revoked!

I’ve become a regular at the 7-Eleven on Tremont and Winter streets here in the lovely downtown Boston area. I only just realized, however, that that’s about to change. This is my last week working in the city. I’m down to just teaching in the afternoons come next Monday. But I don’t really want to talk about that, kay?

I frequent the 7-Eleven, because I am constantly trying to restructure the way I manage my addiction to Diet Coke in a way that won’t cause any permanent upset to kidneys, REM cycles, waste cycles, girly cycles, unicyles, hair growth, habitual vomiting, shortness of breath, health of the nail beds, knuckle sensitivity, minor rashes, saliva production, and other nervous complexes. We want all of that staying exactly as it is, MEANWHILE, getting in our necessary daily intake of Diet Coke. It’s a crafty dance of balance and beauty, really. Quitting the habit altogether would be too easy. No creative thinking behind that choice at all.

The latest way I drink Diet Coke is to take care of it first thing in the day. 44 ounces starting at 9:30. Drink it in an hour or so. No more for the rest of the day. Gluttonous quantities of Diet Coke at 9:30 and then I’m good for the next 24 hours.

So this morning was quite chilly, and I’m without a winter coat. An older black gentleman is leaving as I’m going into 7-Eleven. I smile and hold the door for him. He’s holding two lottery tickets. “Why, thank you sister!” he says to me and smiles. “You’re welcome! Have a wonderful day!” I reply. “You as well, God bless you. God bless you!” And then he leaves.

Can I just say that I felt so good after that? Such a small exchange, but…he called me sister! And the cheesy ridiculous part is…that’s exactly what I felt like to him! Children of God holding doors for each other on a cold Monday morning. I felt honored by him. I remember walking to the fountain drinks hoping he’d scratch into a million dollars today.

I pull my gargantuan red cup from the dispenser, and fill it with ice. Happy smile. Happy day. I press the little Diet Coke button, and out comes….SODA WATER.

“Excuse me, you’re out of Diet Coke.” I say calmly. Guy in red shirt says, “Sorry, it’s too hard to get to the boxes of soda because there’s tons of stuff in front of it.” “So, you can’t fix it?” “I can’t fix it.”

I’m not even out the door before I’ve begun strategizing how I’m going to torch this mother down. I hate humans. Kiss this regular goodbye…

KIDDING.

Not sweating it, I head toward the door and a large white construction guy follows right behind me. I hold the door for him on our way out. “Thanks, sweetie.” He says. “Not a problem.” I reply.

If only the Red Sox could sweep the World Series every weekend…

I've told a few friends about a play I know I'm supposed to write. I even know what it's about, and I know what it's supposed to say. I just don't know how to say it. So I write other plays, thinking that will help me become a better writer for the play I know I'm supposed to write.

I can't tell you how strange it is to have dialogue running in your mind spoken by a woman you've created but not written down yet. I'm intimidated to the teeth by her; I don't know how to do her wisdom justice. I'm just not that good.

Then today, my dear friend sent me a quote I've read many times before, but needed to read again. And then the candle lit up inside me. Here's the quote:

"The story of Mormonism has never yet been written nor painted nor sculptured nor spoken. It remains for inspired hearts and talented fingers yet to reveal themselves." -Spencer W. Kimball, Teachings

Okay, okay. Okay.

Labels: writing

This morning on my way into work, a toothless, crazy homeless man riding a rusty bike on the sidewalk pedals past me and says, “Ooooo. Sexy.” These were my thoughts following that, using the skills acquired through a methods of reasoning course during freshman year of college:

1. Crazy men who have not teeth do not make truthful or valid statements.
2. Therefore, I am not sexy.
3. Normal attractive men make truthful and valid statements.
4. Normal attractive men do not ride past me and say, “Ooooo. Sexy.”
5. Therefore, I am not sexy.

Based solely on the tenets of logical cognition, I conclude that this reasoning is FALSE. And so I ponder further:

1. Crazy people usually say the things we are too afraid to say.
2. Normal attractive men usually stay away from saying things that sound crazy.
3. Crazy man said I was sexy.
4. Normal attractive men usually are too afraid to say I am sexy.

This reasoning is SOMEWHAT TRUE. We’re getting warmer. [Note that this posit does not argue whether or not I am sexy, only whether one should say so. While pedaling a rusty bicycle down a sidewalk.]

And then like a beacon of great light, I uncover the truth:

1. Perception is reality.
2. I perceive that I am attractive on numerous levels.
3. Crazy man says I am sexy.
4. Normal attractive man says nothing.
5. I am attractive on numerous levels.

Statements 3 & 4 have no bearing on Statements 1 & 2. Statement 5 is TRUE.

I rode up the fourteen floors of my building beaming. Don’t you just love logic?

Labels: deep and reflective

This morning my boss comes in first thing and hands me a box wrapped in deep red paper and a big gold bow. "From C*." (Boss' beau.) It's Belgian chocolate. And the tears begin to flow. They need to commit me, I swear. A present! A present after a sleepless night, and a hard morning, and a long day of work and teaching ahead! God loves me.

I wrote C* a quick email. We've been friends for many moons now, you see. Whenever he calls for the boss he always asks me how I'm doing, I inevitably get dating advice or a career pep talk or something. He's fantastic.

"Thank you so much for the chocolate," I said. "I've just ruined my breakfast. God bless you for that."

So as Julie has already mentioned on her blog, little ju-ju bee and I went on a trip to Columbus over Columbus Day weekend. We really get into the holiday.

Since Julie and I are both fans of the blog, and like to share all the banal of our lives with no one in particular and everyone all at once, we kept a "Blog Log" of our 14+ hour car trip on our way to Ohio. I've left all the typos, because I think it gives the piece character. You will also note that as the hours grew later and later, the brain did a funny dance put on paper. And since I can't find the cable that connects my camera to the computer, I can only give you the photos taken by my Macbook's Photo Book. In spite of how horrifying they are, I believe in being honest, and include them with this post for your viewing abhorrence.

Blog Log

Stardate: 10-5-07 7:28PM- Lice Lady

Heart beat out from the pike. Stopped at a light. Got the window’s rolled down. Gonna do it up right. When to our right,...okay enough rhyming....single woman rolls down her window, greets us with her Bostonian slur and says, “Feels like summah!” Julie and I give the gratuitous, “yeah.” We continue with a few pleasantries when car lady hits us with the bad news... “At the school where I work we got an out-break of lice.” At this moment Julie resists rolling up the window. She continues, “And so I’m sittin heah all sveltering thinking, ‘my scalp itches’ and I’m wondering, huh?” The gods finally have their laugh and let the light turn green and we are once again on our way. And as a further farewell, lice lady cuts us off. We let her go because, well, the woman’s got lice.

Stardate: 10-5-07 11:44 PM - Julie needs a Snickers

We’ve entered upstate New York, and Julie needs at least 30 more voice lessons. Cha-ching! Mary’s tambourines keep going off in the trunk, which tells you the conditions of our road. Mary’s resisting the urge to sell junk by the side of the road and wear a long gauzy skirt. Can you tell it’s nearly midnight? And only eleven and a half hours to go. But hey, we got pretzels. And we do not believe that anything has happened in the last four hours. Thank you.



Quotable Quotes thus far:
Mary: Intimidated by what?! I fart!
Julie: The tambourines make me giggle.
Mary: It’s scientifically impossible to hate you...but go to hell.

Stardate: 10-6-07 1:32AM - This trail mix is good

Just left the Mobil gas station somewhere in New York. We just passed a sign that said 70 miles to Rochester. I think that’s where we’re going to stop for a more than needed two-hour naparooni. We went over the pros and cons of being in a singles ward. The final verdict: Painful but necessary.

Julie’s ritual when she drives this by herself is to stop every three hours, run around the parking lot twice, buy a Red Bull at the convenience store, and then she’s good for another three. But since Mary’s here, she’s good with trail mix and Cherry Coke. Mostly Julie wishes that no one judge her for drinking Red Bull. Mary wants it known that if you do judge her, she has no power to stop you. Julie thinks Mary is astute.

We’re now going to watch a video Mary made of Peggy telling a scary story by the campfire in her Sister Utah voice. Don’t you wish you were here?


Stardate: 10-6-07 2:14AM

What is art? Whitney Houston, that’s what. We’ve resorted to calling people names like sicky puke man face and stupid dummy dum-dum man head. And right now we are laughing uncontrollably. And we also know that in twelve hours none of this will be funny, (Note: we re-read this 6 hours later, and it was pretty dang funny) partly because Conference will be over and we will feel sufficiently chastised for calling people names. Actually, we’ll also feel bad for pretty much sleeping through Conference as well. I’d like to make a statement: Julie has a statement. Julie clears her throat: I believe the children are our future...lead them well but let them lead the way...and that’s all she’s got, folks. Wait,...its teach them well. Thats not what Julie said. But don’t tell her. She’ll feel bad about that too. Now we’re singing that Allure song, All Cried Out....HOvah youuuuuuuuu. We sang the whole dang thang. We’ve determined the best line of that song is as follows: Apology not accepted, add me to the broken hearts you collected - AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Julie talks about how she feels right now: It’s like I”m not even tired cuz like all of the caffeine I’ve had is burning up the endolphins is like releasing the syruptonin tha’ts like in my bran, and it’s making me not tred but lke happy at the same time ,and I’m pretty sure that’s like an effect of Diet Coke.

Thank you, Julie.




Stardate: October 6, 2007 6:05AM - Post 1.5 Hour Nap

We’ve been driving for about an hour and 20 minutes. I”m pretty convinced that woman gave me lice. Look, I just itched my scalp. Who knew that it took so little time for the eggs to hatch. We just crossed the Pennsylvania state line. Julie says, “Hey, remember when we were just asleep in that parking lot and it was blazing hot in the car and there were people walking around outside the car and talking the whole time?” 100 miles to go. I could go for a steak right about now.

Startdate: 10-5-07 8:06AM - Wee Hours

Let it be known that Julie lied. It wasn’t 100 miles to go. It was 240 miles to go. But she let Mary sleep for a couple hours so it’s cool. And whilst Mary was slumbering, Julie watched the sunrise through the rearview mirror. Awwwww. Julie listened to her iPod. Here’s the list:
Garth Brooks, Ain’t Goin’ Down Till the Sun Comes Up
Coolio, Gangsta’s Paradise. Way to go, Cooley-Julio!
Queen, We Will Rock You
Bon Jovi, You Give Love a Bad Name
Sarah Brightman, Phantom of the Opera
and finally
Metallica, Enter Sandman

Mary feels as if she missed out on some of the best tracks o’ the trip. Actually, the only tracks o’the trip. Speaking of O apostrophe’s, we forgot to mention our brief listen to Famous Irish Folk Ballads last night. Didn’t last long. Probably have to be in Ireland.

Julie says we’re actually about 100 miles out now. For realsies this time. Mary’s not listening to single word she says.

Mary had to hear the following story exactly three times in succession before comprehending, and not even then: “My parents always complain about how grey Columbus is. But every time I come, it’s sunny. So I’m not sure I believe them. The End.” Mary thought Julie was saying her parent always said Columbus was ‘GREAT’ not ‘GREY’. We’ll be stopping for Q-tips and more Diet Coke shortly.

Stardate: 10-6-07 9:43 AM - It’s Official

Julie and Mary have completely run out of things to talk about. We knew we were getting close to this moment when we started listing the nicknames of our respective siblings. Even the box of Hot Tamales turned cold.